Gravity Falls: The Mystery Trio: First Anomaly
by Topaz88
Summary: Ford, Stan, and Fiddleford have been in Gravity Falls for nearly a week, and Ford is getting disappointed that they have not come across any of the anomalies that are supposed to be there. The three meet an anomaly soon enough...
1. Chapter 1

Morning broke on the valley town of Gravity Falls, Oregon.

Stanford "Ford" Pines woke up and looked at the attic ceiling. It had been a little over a week since he, his twin brother Stan and college friend Fiddleford McGucket had moved there, and into the house that Ford had had built with part of his research grant money.

Ford sat up and stretched. He had come to Gravity Falls to study the anomalies that he had heard/read were there—but so far nothing more unusual than finding out some things about his old college roommate and that someone had mysteriously left a pie on their front porch.

"Stan, are you—"

Ford turned to greet his twin brother in the bed on the other side of the nightstand, but there was no one there. The bed looked as if it had been hastily made.

"Huh. I guess you are awake. "Ford mumbled, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the horn-rimmed glasses on the nightstand. After putting them on, he got up and got dressed.

Leaving the room, he closed the door and went down the short flight of steps, where he found himself in the hallway. He smiled when he heard the strains of a banjo.

Walking down the hall a ways, he knocked on the first door to the right. "Fiddleford? "

"Be there directly." Came a voice with a distinct southern twang to it. After a moment the door opened, and a young man put a pair of rimless spectacles on and looked up at him. "Good morning, Stanford." He said cheerfully. "I was just gettin' the ol' juices flowin'—I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Ford chuckled. "Not at all, Fiddleford. I was just wondering if you'd seen my brother. "

The smaller young man looked thoughtful a moment. "No—haven't seen him, but I did hear footsteps in the hall about ten or fifteen minutes ago. "

Suddenly the clattering of dishes came to Ford's ear. "Never mind, I think I know where he is. "

His friend smiled. "I hope nothin' too drastic is happenin' down there. I'll be down in two shakes. "

"See you then. "

Ford went down the stairs, past the living room of the house and to the kitchen.

His identical twin brother Stanley stood at the stove with his back to Ford. Ford thought it wise not to surprise his brother when he was at the stove, which might be on. He went and sat at the kitchen table.

"Dum-dum-dum…cookin' up some pancakes…" Stanley hummed, when he turned with a pan held in his oven-mitted hand. "Oh, hey, Sixer. Didn't hear you come down. "

"Didn't want to disturb you." Ford said with a smile. "What got into you this morning? "

Stan shrugged and slid the large pancake in the pan he held onto the plate waiting on the table. "Well, you and Fidds have been cooking everything so far—I figured I should do something around here. "

Ford shook his head. "Stan, I couldn't do anything without you or Fiddleford's help. "

"Yeah, well—I wanted to make breakfast anyway." Stan said as he poured more batter into the pan. "Sorry—pancakes're all I know how to make. "

"Mmm. Sounds mighty good to me. "

The twins looked to see Fiddleford, now dressed, enter the kitchen. He went around the other side of the table to sit, then realized the table wasn't completely set. "Oh—let me get the plates out for you. "

"Actually, kid, I've got the other plates over here." Stan told him. "You can get out the silverware, though. "Stanley informed him as he lifted the edge of the pancake in the pan to see if it was ready to turn.

"Sure thing, Stan. "

Ford watched his smaller friend leave the table to go to the silverware drawer. Suddenly his waking mind remembered something.

"Oh, hey, I have something I wanted to show you both. "

Both Stan and Fiddleford turned and looked over their shoulders at Ford.

"Really? "

"Ya do? "

"Yup. You guys keep doing what you're doing, I'm going to go and get it. "

Ford ran back upstairs. Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other quizzically.

After a bit, Ford came back down the stairs. Stan and Fiddleford noted that he had a thick book in the crook of his arm with a dark reddish-brown cover and gold tabs on the corners.

Coming back to the kitchen, Ford placed the book on the table. Both of his housemates immediately noted the six-fingered hand silhouette done in gold leaf on the front, a numeral one in black ink in the center. Stan couldn't help but grin a bit—Ford had obviously traced one of his own six-fingered hands.

"Wow." Fiddleford said, looking the book cover over. "That's a right fancy book, Ford. What's it for? "

Ford sighed. "Well, it was meant to be a journal of my findings here in Gravity Falls, "he said, a disappointed tone in his voice. "But so far there's been nothing unusual here that I've observed."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Ford, we've been here what—four days? What—you think that all of the anoma—whatsits are going to jump out of the wood work now that you're here?"

"I still haven't retrieved the cameras I set up out in the woods the other day." Fiddleford offered. "Perhaps one of them caught something."

Ford sighed. "I sure hope so. I'd hate to think that all of this was a waste of time and my grant money. "


	2. Chapter 2

"Heck, no." Stan said, turning back to the stove. "Poindexter, you're one of the smartest guys I know. If you learned there are freaky things here, then there are freaky things here. "

"I won't mind findin' the strangeness," Fiddleford said, "I just hope there's nothin'—well—"

"Ah, don't worry about danger, kid." Stan said as he set a plate of three varying-in-size pancakes in front of him. "That's why _I'm_ here. You two are the brains, and I'm your body guard. "

Ford chuckled. _That's so true, Stan. You've been my bodyguard pretty much all our lives._

He opened the front cover of the journal, and stared at the blank page. _I just wish we could find_ something _here in Gravity Falls—dangerous or otherwise._

"Don't you worry, none, Stanford." Fiddleford assured him. "You'll be fillin' that journal in no time. "

Ford smiled in appreciation, but he wasn't as sure.

"Okay, here we go." Stan said, setting his own plate at the table. His brother noted that the pancakes on Stan's plate not only varied dramatically in size, but the color on them was quite pale. "Now, Poindexter, you keep your chin up. Maybe the three of us can go on an anomo-whatsit—uh—monster hunt later and really search this forest for somethin' you can put in that book. "

Ford grinned. "Perhaps we will. "

"Maybe we're just looking in the wrong place." Fiddleford suggested after swallowing. "There's a mighty big forest out there. I took the liberty of cataloguin' where we've already looked, so we won't look in the same place again. "

It was Stan's turn to chew and swallow. "You—what, now? "

Fiddleford took a notepad out of his shirt pocket. "Well," he said, flipping the thin cardboard cover over and setting it on the table. There was a child-art style house in the center of a bunch of triangles, and some sort of hand-drawn ruler thing with the word "miles" under it. "—I drew this map of sorts of the house and the surroundin' forest. The other day we went searchin' for anomalies –"

Fiddleford indicated a group of triangles circled in red (Stan finally realized that the triangles were supposed to be the trees around them). "—in this here quadrant. Next time we go on a search for anomalies, we can search one of the quadrants I haven't yet marked off. "

Stan chewed for a few more seconds, then swallowed. "So, you've got the forest drawn there, and each place we search you can mark off and we'll search another one. "

"Uh—that's what I just said. "

Stan rolled his eyes. "C'mon, squirt, you know I'm not fluent in nerd speak. "

Fiddleford just grinned and shook his head.

Ford looked at Fiddleford's diagram. Stan was right—there was an awful lot of forest out there. They were bound to find something.

"Well, all right then." Ford said, closing his journal and looking to make sure he had a pen in his pocket. "After breakfast, Fidds, you go and gather those cameras from the part of the forest you put them in, and when you come back, we'll go on another anomaly hunt. "

Stan rolled his eyes. "Come on, you guys, enough with that anomo-whosit word. Could you use plain English when you're with me, at least. Like—say 'Monster Hunt' or somethin'. "

Fiddleford gulped. "Eh—an' how's about you say "monster" when I'm not in the room? "

Stan grinned at his friend, who was all of five-foot seven and ninety-one pounds soaking wet. "Hey, Fidds—like I said, I'm here to protect you from the monsters. "

Fiddleford just sighed and shuddered.

"All right then, it's settled." Stan said, slapping his brother's shoulder. "Monster—uh—whatever-that-word-is-I-can't-say-hunt after breakfast. "

Ford grinned. He was grateful that his friend and brother were trying to make him feel better—but—what if they didn't find anything? "

"So, Ford—"

Stan's twin was snapped out of his thoughts. "What? "

"That book of yours isn't exactly a lightweight paperback. How're you gonna carry it all over the place with you while we're runnin' after monst—uh—anomowhatstits? "

Ford thought a moment, then his face brightened. "Oh! I actually thought of that! Just a moment!"

Ford ran out of the dining area, and Fiddleford and Stan looked at each other. They both heard Ford's footsteps going up the stairs. Minutes later, he reappeared wearing a trenchcoat that was slightly big on him.

Stan blinked. "Is that Dad's coat? "

His brother nodded. "I found it in a charity bag. But check this out. "

He went over to the table and picked up the journal. Opening one side of the coat, Fidds and Stan noted a large pocket, which Ford slipped the book into. "Voila!"

"Son of a gun."

"Good thinkin' there, Stanford. "

Stan grinned. "You know, you kinda look more like a legit mons—uh—whatchamacallit hunter in that get up. "

Stan's twin grinned back his thanks. Stan was glad to see a spark in his eye again.


	3. Chapter 3

Fiddleford finished a last bite of his pancakes. "Well, then, I'll wash the dishes, and we can get started. "

"No," Ford said, shaking his head. "Stan will wash the dishes, you go and get the cameras out of the woods where you set them up and bring them back. "When you're back, we'll go—hunting. "

Fiddleford grimaced, blushing slightly at having hinted that he was scared to run into any monsters to begin with.

"All righty, then." He said, standing, picking up his plate and heading to the kitchen counter with it. "I'll just put this over here and get goin'. "

Ford shook his head, having seen the red color take over his friend's face. "Fiddleford, it's—"

But his friend had quickly returned from the kitchen, grabbed a backpack off the couch and headed out the door.

"—okay." Ford finished as the door closed, and sighed.

Stan turned form the sink. "Everythin' all right?"

His brother sighed. "I wish there was a way—to get Fiddleford to accept himself for the way he is. "

Stan frowned. "Sorry if I said somethin' wrong."

"No." Ford said, shaking his head. "I think that Fiddleford's feeling is - that because he's not bigger or stronger or braver or something—he's less of a person. "

Ford's twin snorted. "What? That little guy took a dagger in the back to save your life. Some guys three times his size wouldn't have done that. "

"He's selfless." Ford said, sighing deeply. "And brilliant, and loyal—I wish he would own that instead of focusing on his so-called faults. " 

Outside, Fiddleford put the backpack down and covered his face with his hands. He wanted so badly to burst out crying, but…

 _Fiddleford, don't you dare cry. You're a grown man, act like it._

In the back of his mind, he heard one of the headmistresses at the orphanage where he grew up:

 _Fiddleford! Stop your blubbering this instant! Little or not you're going to have to learn not to act like a baby!_

That was when he'd fallen down and hurt himself, or been picked on by the older boys, or just plain had had his feelings hurt. He was raised to believe that a man didn't cry, much less was scared. When he left the orphanage he'd learned otherwise, but…

"Sometimes it's hard to break old habits. "he said with a sigh. "Well, I'd best go get those cameras. "

Picking up the backpack, he slung the strap over one shoulder and went down the steps.

Stan watched his brother as he wrote in the first page of the journal. He was really tempted to read what his brother was writing, but didn't. Finally, Ford closed the journal and tucked into the pocket of the trenchcoat, which he was still wearing.

"So—what d' you want us to look for, exactly?" Stan asked when Ford put his pen down.

"Anything strange," Ford said, and when his brother raised an eyebrow—"—anything out of the ordinary—anything that strikes you as—weird. "

Stan smirked. "Well, you may as well put yourself in that book, 'cause you've always struck me as weird. "

Ford was about to retort, when they heard,

Boom—boom— _boom_ —

Stan held onto the table, as the house was shaking a bit.

"What the heck—"

"Is it an earthquake?" Ford asked of no one in particular.

Boom! Crunch! Tinkle!

The noise came from outside. Soon after the tinkling of breaking glass came a scream.

"Eeeeeyaaaaaghh!"

"Kid!" Stan cried, while his brother shot up out of his seat and fairly shouted, "Fiddleford!" simultaneously.

The twins both bolted for the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Ford ran down the steps on the south side of the house. Stan launched himself over the steps and landed on the ground next to him.

"Fiddleford?" Ford called, when his brother pointed ahead of them.

A couple of yards away, their small friend was sitting on the ground, the backpack behind him. He had one arm raised defensively, and was shaking uncontrollably.

"Fidds!"

Stan ran over to the younger man, Ford on his heels.

When he reached Fiddleford, Stan looked around. He couldn't see anything unusual. Ford came up behind him, getting on his knee beside Fiddleford and placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Fiddleford, what _happened_? "

"Nnngh—ghhh—"

Without speaking, Fiddleford pointed ahead of him.

Stan and Ford looked in the direction was pointing. Some of the branches on the nearby trees were obviously broken, and…

"Uh, Ford, where's your car? "

Stan's twin realized that his car was no longer in the place that it was parked. All that remained in the spot were some broken tree branches and shards of glass.

Turning back to his seated friend, he looked into his wide eyes. "Fiddleford—try to calm down. -what happened? "

Ford thought that he felt his friend's shaking lessen a bit under his hand—but not much.

"N—n-" Fiddleford bit his lower lip.

"Kid, take a deep breath. " Stan said. "I'm afraid you're gonna have a heart attack. "

Fiddleford tried to take a breath, but could only gasp.

Ford moved in front of his friend and looked him in the eye. "Fiddleford, breathe. Remember, breathe from your diaphragm and get some air in. "

Fiddleford placed one hand on his stomach and drew a ragged, but deeper breath than he'd been taking. After he'd done this twice more, Ford noticed his friend's shaking lessened considerably.

Stan came over and got on his knee beside his friend and brother. "Kid, are you okay? Did you see what happened to Ford's car? "

After swallowing and taking another deep breath, Fiddleford blinked. "I-I was coming outs-side—an' there—there was a couple 'a' huge 'booms' an' th' ground shook. I heard—a bunch of birds, an' when I looked toward where Ford's car was parked a bunch were flyin' away. Th-then—"

He closed his eyes and started shaking again.

"It's okay, Fiddleford. Whatever it was is gone." Ford assured him.

Fiddleford closed his eyes, drew another deep breath and held it for a second. He exhaled, opened his eyes. Looking at Ford he said, "Th-there—was a—a hand—a h-huge hand—that reached out of the forest and—and dragged your car away. "

Stan blinked and looked over to where the shards of glass—evidently from Ford's car windows, littered the ground. "A hand? You mean—like a giant? "

His younger friend drew another deep breath. "Yes—but it—it didn't have skin—it looked like—"Fiddleford stopped and thought a moment. "—like—tree bark. "

"Tree bark?"

Stan recognized the look of excitement in his brother's eyes.

"Oh, my—Fiddleford may very well have come across our first anomaly!"

"Calm down, Sixer." Stan said, noting his brother place his hand on his coat, under which the journal was tucked in its pocket. "If the thing was big enough to crunch your car like that, then—"

 _Boom._

Fiddleford's breathing became quick again. "Oh, no."

 _Boom._

As Fiddleford had described before, several birds came flying out of the trees.

 _Boom._

"Oh, my …"

"Oh, dear."

"Holy—"

Standing in the line of trees was—well, a larger tree. Its trunk parted part way down to make legs, and it had two more large branches on the sides of its body that made its arms. Two large five-fingered hands were at the end of each branch.

"What—what is that thing?" Stan said almost under his breath.

"I don't know—but it's definitely an anomaly!" Ford answered. Stan could almost hear joy in his brother's voice.

Between them, still seated on the ground, Fiddleford was trying not to hyperventilate. The creature looked down at them, more by moving its eyes, as it had no neck. Fiddleford noticed that, while they still appeared to be made from wood, the creature's eyeballs were a lighter color than the bark that made up its "skin". Its pupils were dark holes.

 _Its eyes must be the cambium or xylem._ He thought, remembering the inner parts of a tree.


	5. Chapter 5

Stan looked over at his brother, who had taken the journal from the inside of his trench coat and was ecstatically writing. "Ford, what're you _nuts_? We have to get outta here!"

"Just one second," his brother said, taking a look up at the creature and then looking back down at the journal and writing more.

 _Boom- boom._

The creature had stepped over the trees that had been in front of it, and was now standing only yards from them. Stan noted that the creature had human-like feet—complete with five toes.

Stan reached over and smacked the back of his brother's head. "Poindexter! Quit writin' in your book and let's get outta here already! "

Ford stopped for a second, mainly because his brother smack had caused him to drop the journal. Managing to catch it before it fell to the ground, he then began writing again. "But I –"

"Aaaaaaaah !"

Ford was jerked away from his writing this time by the sound of Fiddleford screaming. Looking up, he was barely able to dodge out of the way as he large hand of the tree came down toward the trio.

Stan tried to stand his ground, but the force of the hand hitting him knocked him over.

Still seated on the ground, Fiddleford tried to scoot backward away from the approaching hand. The fingers scooped under him, and he rolled down them and into the creature's palm.

"Hel-l-l-l-lp!"

Stan looked up. As the tree-thing turned, he could see his slightly-built housemate clinging to the creature's thumb for dear life.

"Kid!" Stan shouted, "Jump!"

"Fiddleford!" Ford cried.

Stan didn't know if the young man was too scared to jump, or just didn't hear him. He continued to cling to the creature's thumb and cry for help.

The tree-creature headed back into the forest.

"Noo!" Ford cried, feeling completely helpless. What was this thing? Why was it taking Fiddleford?

"We've got to get another car or somethin'!" Stan said, bolting in the direction of town.

Ford could only watch the first anomaly they'd found in Gravity Falls stride away with his friend.

Fiddleford had heard Stan yell for him to jump, but one look downward and he knew that he wasn't going to do that. His heart was pounding inside his chest so hard, Fiddleford was sure it was going to burst—or at the very least, get a tear in it and he would bleed to death.

"Calm down, Fiddleford, calm down." He told himself, still clinging to the creature's thumb for fear of falling. "Ford 'n' Stan'll find a way to rescue you—it'll be okay. "

Okay? He wanted so bad to tell himself that, but—how often did someone get kidnapped by a giant tree-creature? He was sure he'd never read any statistics about it-or the amount of people being rescued from one, either.

Looking up, he saw that his abductor was looking straight ahead, as if concentrating on walking.

"Wh-what d'you want with me?" Fiddleford shouted up to the creature as loud as he could. The eyes looked downward at him, and—the young man just noticed what looked like a cut in the wood underneath the creature's eyes—did it smile? Then, the eyes focused ahead again.

 _Oh, my—is this thing gonna eat me?_ He thought. _Naw, don't be silly. Fiddleford—does this creature even have teeth—or a digestive system? Oh, dear, why'd I think of that? I don't wanna know…_

Ford regained his senses and ran after Stan. "Stan, wait!"

His brother, who had gone a few yards, skidded to a stop and looked over at his shoulder at Ford. "What?"

"Stan, even if we did have another vehicle, how could we drive through the trees? I don't see any kind of road or path. "

"But how are we going to catch up to that thing?"

"I don't know about catching up, but we can still follow it." Ford said, lowering his voice. "Something with that big of feet must leave footprints."

"But—what—that thing might hurt Fidds!"

Ford drew a deep breath to further calm himself down and help him think more clearly. "Somehow I don't think so. If the creature had wanted to hurt Fiddleford, it could have—"

Stan's twin shook his head, not wanting to think of what it could have done.

"It didn't come out of the forest destroying everything—or even looking particularly threatening—"

" _What_?" Stan said incredulously. "A forty-odd foot tree monster didn't look _threatening_ to you?"

Ford sighed and continued. "-it scooped up Fiddleford and just took him away-and why _him_? You and I were standing right here, too. "

Stan blinked, pursed his lips and looked toward the forest. "Yeah, whatever, but that thing took our friend, and I'm goin' after it. "


	6. Chapter 6

The tree creature strode on, not saying a word. Fiddleford was almost literally "scared stiff"—not able to move for some time.

Though he had tried repeatedly to get the creature to tell him what it wanted with him, or where they were going, he had received no answer. The creature's eyes had only moved down as if to look at him and a couple of times Fiddleford had noted the expression that seemed to be a smile. There was never, however, any word from the creature.

 _Oh dear. How on earth am I gonna get out of this?_

Were Stan and Ford following? They had to be. If they caught up, though, how would they ever get him away from his captor?

A couple of times Fiddleford had looked over the edge of the creature's hand and contemplated jumping, as Stan had called to him to do, but it was so far down—he would more than likely get hurt than he would escape.

 _How far have we gone?_ He wondered.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax himself enough to sit up. Since the creature was so large, he could not see what was behind them. Looking forward, however, he caught sight of a steep rock cliff, which the creature seemed to be headed toward.

 _Oh my goodness,_ he thought, - _is it gonna climb the cliff_?

The tree-creature continued walking straight toward the cliff.

"Oh, dear – "

The young man placed his hands over the back of his head and ducked it between his knees.

The creature kept right on walking.

When they reached the cliff, Fiddleford grit his teeth and braced himself for an impact, but there was none. Daring to look out of the corner of his eye, he noted the scene around them had become – blurred—for lack of a better description.

"Well, shut my mouth…" he said in almost a whisper, lifting his head. It almost looked as if the creature was walking through water, although Fiddleford didn't' feel the least bit wet.

Suddenly the creature carrying Fiddleford was through, and the scene around them became clear again.

The young man drew a sharp breath and put his hand to his mouth. "Oh, my word…" 

"Stanford, would you hurry it _up!_?" Stan said, pounding a fist on the top of his brother's head.

"Stan- _ley_ , we have to be prepared!" his brother insisted, shoving one last item of food into the backpack and closing the refrigerator.

" _Prepared_? For Pete's sake, Poindexter, this is supposed to be a _rescue mission_ , not a Boy Scout trip!"

Ford stood, rubbing his head, and looked his brother in the eye. He noted Stan was scowling. "Stan, I _know_ that. "he said in an even tone. "I'm concerned about Fiddleford too, but we won't do him any good if we have to travel a long time and don't bring any supplies with us. How can we rescue him if we both starve? "

Stan exhaled. "O-kay. I'm sorry, I just—I've grown attached to the kid, you know? I think I said before, he's like another little brother, and—I'd hate to think that the last thing anyone said to him was somethin' that hurt his feelings. "

Ford frowned. He didn't want that, either. "All right, then, Stan—let's go."

He started to put the backpack on, but Stan grabbed it from him and put it on himself. "Like it or not, Poindexter, I'm stronger than you'll ever be."

Ford grinned at him, and then set his jaw. "All right, Stan—let's go find Fiddleford. "

The two headed out the door, and over to the edge of the forest.

After walking in silence for a few minutes, Stan asked, "How far do you think that they—whoa !"

He fell forward and flat on his face, letting out a loud grunt as his brother landed on his back.

Ford rolled over and sat up. They seemed to have fallen into a shallow hole.

"Uh—Sixer, could you get off of me?" came his twin's muffled voice.

"Oop. Sorry, Stan." Ford said, scrambling to his feet and standing up. Continuing to examine the hole, he saw that it was only about two feet deep, and extended in front of them for several more feet.

Stan got up and shook himself. "What the heck happened? "

Ford walked a little ways down the length of the hole, then turned to face him again. Stan noted his brother's eyes widen and get a kind of spark in them: what Stan called the "lightbulb going off in his head" look.

"Stan!" Ford practically yelled. "I know what this is!"

"Well, I'm glad one of us knows—Sixer!"

Ford had run back to the end of the hole where the twins had fallen in, and scrambled out. Stan took a running jump and got out that way.

"Just as I thought," Ford said, turning and looking at the hole. Stan came to his side and looked too.

They had fallen into a giant footprint.

"Son of a gun," Stan muttered as he looked at the giant footprint before them, then smiled. "Guess this thing won't be so hard to follow, will it?"

His brother smiled back and shook his head. "Come on, let's go."

He ran around the edge of the footprint, careful not to fall back in. Stan was right on his heels.


	7. Chapter 7

Fiddleford didn't know whether to be more frightened or in awe.

He and his captor had entered a kind of small canyon, around which, seated on ridges in the stone, were more of the tree creatures. Fiddleford guessed there were about fifteen of them.

Directly in front of them was a tree-creature that sat on a stone seat by itself. Its bark was a greyish color, and moss and lichens grew on its surface.

"Oh!"

Fiddleford suddenly had to catch his balance as the tree creature that carried him bent down and placed its open hand on a large flat stone. Hoping that it was what he was supposed to do, the young man stepped off of the creature's hand and onto the rock.

"Greetings, little one. I hope that Feron didn't frighten you."

"Um—"

Fiddleford realized that the lone seated tree creature was speaking. The "cut" line under its eyes moved just slightly as the young man heard the words.

"Well, just a bit." He said, figuring honesty was the best policy. "I—I don't know why I'm here. "

Dark bark covered the eyes of the creature for a moment, like eyelids. When they opened again, the creature said, "I am sorry, little one. Feron does not speak. I should have sent someone for you who could explain why we needed you. "

Fiddleford looked around him. All of these creatures had to be forty to sixty feet tall standing. Looking back at the speaking tree creature he said, "You—you needed _me_? Who—who exactly are you? "

The tree creature seemed to blink slowly again. "We are the Gohlen, the ancient tree people of this valley. I am Baumar, the Gohlen elder. We have long protected the valley from outside dangers of many kinds. "

"D-dangers?" the young man said, swallowing hard.

"Indeed." The head of the Gohlen answered. "However, we are growing old, and our time is coming soon to return to the earth. "

Fiddleford's heart felt as if it were going to burst, it was pounding so hard. "B-but who will protect the valley then? "

The head Gohlen's eyes looked to the left, and another of the creatures seated in that direction brought forth a box that looked as if it could have been made of onyx or some sort of other black

mineral. The creature set it down in front of Fiddleford.

"This box contains two orbs from which two more of our kind will grow." The head Gohlen said. "We need someone of your caliber to plant them, and make sure they do not come to harm as they grow. Their mission is ingrained in them, as it is in all of our kind, so there will be no need for teaching. "

Fiddleford gazed at the box, feeling frightened, overwhelmed, and honored at the same time. Finally he looked up at the head Gohlen. "B-but Mister Baumar sir, what do you mean, _my_ caliber? How do you know anything about me? "

Baumar smiled. "Little one, we have many friends in these forests. They have told us of your kindness to our friends. With kindness often comes loyalty, and that is what we are looking for in someone to take on this task. "

For a moment, Fiddleford went over events of the last week in his mind. He'd gone a couple of times into the forest to set up and retrieve cameras. Once he'd been able to lift a fallen log off of a rabbit burrow when he'd seen a rabbit was trapped inside (though he'd been glad the log wasn't very heavy, or he would have had to go and get Stanley). Another time he'd placed a baby bird back in its nest, and there was the time he'd bandaged a hurt doe's leg with his tie.

 _Who could have seen me do that?_ He wondered, at the same time feeling his face begin to get hot.

Stanley's gaze remained looking straight ahead. He could see the footprints going on ahead of them.

"Ford? "

Stanley's brother appeared to jerk himself out of his thoughts. "Yes, Stanley? "

"What's a Hadron? "

Ford raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother. "Well, it's—why do you ask? "

Stan shrugged. Really, he just wanted to make conversation to break the silence. "It's the kid's middle name—I saw it on his birth certificate the other day—but I have never heard of anyone named that—middle name or otherwise. Is it some other language or somethin'? "

Ford chuckled. "Er—well, it's actually Greek—it means 'stout' or 'thick'. "

Stan snorted. "Neither of those describes the kid. "

His brother shook his head. "A Hadron is also—"Ford tried to think of words his brother would understand. "—well, it's something microscopic. "

"Now _that_ describes the kid. "

Ford rolled his eyes and then focused on the next large footprint on the ground. "You're fond of Fiddleford, aren't you? "

Stan stepped over a log. "I like the kid. If our baby brother Shermy had been born closer to us – well, I think of Fidds like a little brother. An'—he's got a good heart—" he shot his brother a half-grin—"-heck, he saved your life. I owe him for that. "

Ford grinned, too. "He is like another little brother isn't he? "

He tucked the journal, which he'd had out in case they ran into any other "anomalies", back into the inside pocket of the trench coat. "We've got to find him. "


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, little one, have you decided? "

Fiddleford had been staring down at the box in front of him, trying to mentally digest all that had happened and all that had been said. After a moment, he looked up at Baumar.

"Yes—yes, Baumar, I'll do it. I'll plant these, and I'll protect 'em with my life."

The old Gohlen's expression turned to what Fiddleford guessed was a smile. "Thank you, little one, though I expected no less."

Stan and Ford followed the footprints to the edge of the forest. Ahead of them, they saw a towering cliff.

"Aw, no!" Stan groaned. "Did the thing climb the cliff with Fidds?"

"It may have gone around." His brother answered matter-of-factly, though Stanley saw the concerned frown on Ford's face. "Let's go closer; there may be some sort of trail we can't see from here. Keep your eye on the footprints. "

"Yeah, well, you too so you don't fall in again."

Ford shook his head and headed forward.

Fiddleford leaned over to pick up the box, hoping it wasn't too heavy. To his surprise, it was as light as if it was made from Styrofoam.

"Is—is Feron gonna take me back?"

Baumar blinked slowly again. "No, little one-as I said, our time to return to the earth draws near. We must stay here. Do not worry; you will be able to pass through the rock as Feron did. "

The young man standing on the rock looked at his shoes a moment, and then raised his head again.

"Thank you—"

But the Gohlen were gone. All that remained of them were heaps of ash.

Fiddleford drew in a sharp breath. "No—!"

He choked back a sob and looked down at the box in his hands. A tear slid down his cheek and onto the lid.

"What on earth—"Ford muttered.

He and Stan stood at the bottom of the cliff, having followed the foot prints straight to it. Half of a foot print was cut off by the cliff wall.

"What the heck!" Stan shouted in frustration, pounding the sheer rock wall with his fist. He looked at his brother and scowled. "Now what're we gonna do, genius? "

Ford looked at the half a foot print, and then appeared to be studying the rock wall. "It's as if the creature walked right through the cliff. Perhaps there's some secret lever or button—"

"Yike!"

"Oh, my—"

Just as Ford had begun to try to think of a plan, as if the cliff wall were an illusion, their friend walked out of it, a black box in his hands.

"Fiddleford!"

"Fidds, are you okay? "

The twins' smaller friend nodded drew a sharp breath. Both Stan and Ford could see the tears on his face.

"Buddy," Ford said, standing in front of Fidds and putting his head down to look into his friend's face. "What happened? Are you sure you're not hurt? "

Fiddleford nodded again and tried to choke back a sob, but was unsuccessful.

Ford gazed at the box in his friend's hands, wondering what it could be. He placed his hands under it and said, "Fiddleford, can I carry this for you? "

Fiddleford nodded, still trying in vain to stop crying.

Ford gently took the box out of his friend's hands, amazed at how light it was. No sooner did Ford do that, than Stan put one arm around his little friend's back, the other under his knees and picked him up. Fiddleford buried his face in Stan's shoulder and started sobbing in earnest.

"Fidds, what—"Stan started, when he saw his brother shaking his head.

Ford went over to the cliff wall, put the box he'd taken from Fiddleford under one arm, and then tapped the cliff wall with his fist a few times, each time a few feet away from where he'd done it before.

" _Fo-ord,"_ Stan groaned. "What the heck are you doing? "

"I don't understand." His twin said. "The cliff side seems completely solid. How did—"

Stan rolled his eyes "Forget that, would you? Fidds is safe, let's go home."

He looked down at his friend, who had cried himself to sleep.

Ford sighed, turned from the cliff wall and came over to his brother. After gazing at his sleeping friend a moment, he nodded in agreement. "You're right, Stan. Let's go home. "

The two turned from the cliff and headed back to the forest. For some minutes they were silent. Stan listened to his friend's breathing for a moment, then said in a low tone,

"Poor kid; I wonder why he was crying? "

Ford started to make his way around the edge of one of the footprints. "I suppose he'll tell us when he's ready. At least he doesn't appear hurt at all. He must be exhausted from being so frightened. "

Stan raised an eyebrow and took a quick glance at this brother, then focused his gaze back on the ground so he didn't trip and fall with his friend in his arms. "Exhausted—from being scared?"

"Yes. Fear, stress—all of these things produce adrenaline, which gives the energy to go through what we're going through, but once the danger or frightening situation has passed, the adrenaline drains, as does the energy that came with it, so—"

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Stan moaned, rolling his eyes. "Thank you for the lecture, Doctor Pines. "

Stan looked down at Fiddleford again. "If exhaustion is caused by fright, then I'm guessing that Fidds here will be asleep a _lot_. "


	9. Chapter 9

The twins walked in silence for quite a while, aside from the sound of their friend breathing and the birds in the trees.

"You want me to carry him?" Ford asked after about half an hour.

Stan shook his head. "Nah. Don't want to wake the kid up. Not that I don't think you _could_ carry him—he weighs about as much as a baby bird. "

Ford chuckled. For all of his muscle and "tough guy" attitude, his twin brother had a good heart. He didn't like to see anything weak, or—different—get hurt or picked on. He thought of what Stan had said earlier:

"If our baby brother Shermy had been born closer to us – well, I think of Fidds like a little brother…"

… _and you'll protect him like he was our little brother,_ Ford thought, casting an approving smile at Stan. _…just like you protected me._

Before long, the trio exited the forest. Stan and Ford could see the house yards away. Both were relieved to be home, and that their friend was safe.

Once inside, Ford slipped the trench coat off and let it drop on the couch. Reaching down, he pulled the journal out of the inside pocket. "I hope Fiddleford will be up to telling us about his experience with those tree creatures, soon."

Stan, who had been heading for the stairs with his friend still in his arms, shot a glare at his brother.

Ford rolled his eyes and sighed. " _When_ he's feeling up to it, Stan. "

Stan shook his head and started up the stairs. "Ford, I love you, I really do, but you gotta learn to turn off the nerd-ness."

His brother rolled his eyes and followed Stan up the stairs with the box Fiddleford had come through the rock with.

When they got to the younger man's room, Ford placed the box on top of the trunk in which Fiddleford kept his belongings. Stan in turn set Fiddleford down on the sectional, pulled the blanket that was hanging over the back off, and put it over his friend.

When Stan stood and turned, he noted his brother looking at him with a grin on his face.

"What?"

Ford shook his head, grinning. "Ah, nothing—I just had a funny thought. "

Stan raised an eyebrow. "All right, Poindexter, _what_? "

"I was just thinking—you might make a good father someday. "

Stan's eyes widened. "What? No way. I may call Fidds a kid, but he's only a year younger than us. Nuh-uh-no kids from me—maybe Shermy will make us uncles one day. I wouldn't know the first thing to do with kids. "

Ford just shook his head, the grin still on his face.

The twins headed downstairs.

Ford glanced at the clock. "Well, we missed lunch. I guess that I could start dinner. "

"Yeah. Anything I can help with? "

"Uh—well, I was thinking of just making Mom's chicken soup. There's chicken in the fridge we have to use up—you could get out bowls and things if you wouldn't mind. "

Stanley nodded and headed for the cupboard. He had to admit, that even though he was happy Fidds was safe, and he wasn't all fired up about writing every detail about the tree creatures in the journal like Ford was, he was still curious about what had happened to his little friend out there.

About an hour and a half later, the two were sitting at the table eating—at least, Ford was eating.

"Stan, your soup's getting cold. "

Ford's twin tore his gaze away from the stairs. "Huh? Oh, yeah. "

Ford placed a hand on his brother's. "Fiddleford will be fine. He's had a really hard day, sleep is good for him. "

"I know, it's just—"

"No-o-o-o-o-o!"

Both of the twins jumped out of their seats. Stan was around the table and halfway up the stairs before Ford was able to reach the bottom of the staircase.

Stan raced down the hall and threw open the door to Fiddleford's room. "Fidds!?"

The twins' younger friend was sitting up on the sectional, his knees against his chest and his face in his hands. As he had been earlier, he was sobbing.

Stan heard his brother's footsteps as he came up next to him.

"Fiddleford?"

He squeezed past his brother and went to sit on the sectional at his friend's feet. "Buddy, what happened, did you have a bad dream? "

Ford could hear his friend gasp for air behind his hands. Fiddleford nodded.

"Hey, pal, it was just a dream." Stan said, coming closer. "You're safe now. "

Fiddleford swallowed and took his hands away from his face, which was red and wet with tears. "I-I know. Truth – truth to tell, I was never in danger. "

Ford looked up at Stan, who returned the look. Both of the twins then turned back to their friend.

"You mean—those tree creatures never caused you any harm?" Ford asked.

Fiddleford shook his head slowly. "No—not the least bit."

The young man wiped his eye with the back of his hand and gazed at the black box on the trunk behind Ford. "They—they were called the Gohlen. Their leader s-said that they…"

Tears came to his eyes again and dropped down both cheeks.

"They were—about to die—and that I—I had—"

Fiddleford bit his lower lip and tried to hold back a sob, but was largely unsuccessful.


	10. Chapter 10

Stan came over and placed a hand on Fiddleford's shoulder. "You what, little buddy? "

His small friend drew a deep breath and shook his head as if in disbelief. "He said that—their friends in the forest had chosen me to—"—he exhaled—"—to plant and care for the—orbs in that there box—"

Ford looked over his shoulder at the black box on the trunk, and Stan followed his gaze.

"—because two more of their kind would grow from them. He also said they chose me because-" Fiddleford blushed –"—because their forest friends had told them about my – my kindness to _their_ friends, and that with kindness came loyalty. "

As Fiddleford spoke, his face became more and more red.

Stan and Ford just grinned at each other a moment, then Ford said, "You _are_ kind and loyal, Fidds. How these—Gohlen creatures found that out we may never know, but they're right. "

"Yeah," Stan agreed, getting down on one knee by the couch and looking into his friend's watery blue eyes. "I know I keep sayin' this, an' you're gonna turn even more red, but you jumped in the way of a dagger and saved my brother's life. If that ain't kind and loyal, I dunno what is. "

True to Stan's prediction, Fiddleford's face went a darker red. "B-but, I—I'm just…" he trailed off.

"You have a good heart, Fiddleford." Ford said. "You're kind, and loyal, and brilliant, and you're strong,—on the inside especially, and that's where it counts most. I don't know what anyone said to you in the past—at the orphanage or anywhere else—but unless they told you _those_ things, you need to forget them. "

The young man next to him turned his gaze inward for a moment. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear the voices of the headmistresses at the orphanage and the older (or at least larger) children saying things like:

"Worthless runt!"

"Panty waist!"

"Boy, you'll never amount to anything."

"Fiddleford! Stop wasting your time tinkering with junk and do something worthwhile! "

He almost chuckled at the last voice that rang in his head. Stop tinkering, indeed. If he'd have "stopped tinkering", he wouldn't be where he was right now—with two of the best friends he could have ever asked for.

"Fiddleford? "

He looked up at Ford, who was gazing at him with a concerned frown on his face.

"I'm all right, Ford. You're right—the things they used to say to me weren't true, an' I have t' stop thinkin' of 'em. "

He reached over and placed his hand on the Gohlen's black box, then looked back at the twins. "Would—would you both come with me tomorrow when I plant these? "

Ford grinned. "Of course."

"You bet, kiddo." Stan answered, smiling himself.

There was a moment of silence, then Stan stood up. "You hungry at all, Fidds? "

His small friend took a deep breath and sniffed the air, placing a hand on his stomach. "Y'know, I am—I didn't realize it until now. "

Ford smiled and stood up, "Come on. I made chicken soup from the leftovers we had the other night. There's plenty left. "

His smaller friend stood up. "Sounds wonderful-thank you kindly. "

Both of the twins placed an arm around their smaller friend's shoulders and headed downstairs.

* * *

The next morning, Ford and Stan followed Fiddleford into the forest. Both had a sneaking suspicion where their friend wanted to plant the orbs in the box.

Sure enough, they followed him straight into the clearing where they'd found him playing his banjo a few days before.

Stan hefted the shovel he'd been carrying over his shoulder off of it. "You want me to dig, kiddo? "

Fiddleford shook his head. "Thank you, Stan, but no. I think I should. "

Stan grinned.

He and Ford watched as Fiddleford put down the box, getting on his knees in front of it. When he opened it, all three of the young men drew in a sharp breath.

Two brass-colored orbs sat in some soft material in the box. The orbs were covered with raised lines, almost like roots (veins?) were underneath the brass colored surface. They glowed ever so slightly.

Fiddleford stood and took the shovel from Stan. The twins watched as their friend dug two holes, each about a foot and a half away from each other.

When he was done digging the second hole, Fiddleford stepped back. "I wonder if they're deep enough."

Ford stepped closer and looked into each hole. Well, Fiddleford, I think that your tree friends trusted that you would know what to do. These holes both look deep enough that the dirt you put back in will completely cover them, so I would trust that that's enough. "

His smaller friend smiled appreciatively and went back to the open box. Gently he picked up one of the orbs with both hands. Did he feel it— _pulsating_?

Just as gently he placed the orb in the bottom of the hole, and did the same with the second orb. Afterward he retrieved the shovel and covered them both up with dirt.

"Well, fellas," Fiddleford said after patting the last bit of dirt over the second hole and sitting back on his haunches. "I guess in a couple of days—"

Both he and the twins drew sharp breaths as the ground where the orbs had been planted began glowing. After a few seconds two twigs came up out of the ground. One of the twigs sprouted a leaf at the very top, the other a small branch out the side. Within a few seconds they both had a thin branch coming out each side, and after a few more seconds both little sprouts had grown to about an inch in diameter. Fiddleford saw the "cuts" that were the creatures' mouths appear, and suddenly they both were looking up at him with tiny dark eyes.

"Amazing."

"Holy—"

"Oh, my goodness."

The baby Gohlen both twisted their trunks as if to look at each other. Fiddleford and the twins heard little noises, like babies cooing. They both turned back then. Each little Gohlen stretched out one of their twig "arms" and wrapped one around one of Fiddleford's fingers.

"Aw, hey there, little fellers." The young man said, grinning broadly. Stan wasn't surprised to see a tear come to his little friend's eye, but was glad it wasn't from fright or sadness this time.

"So, how does it feel to be a new dad, kid? " Stan said.

Ford smacked his brother's arm, but couldn't help but notice that Fiddleford's face was glowing as though he _were_ seeing his first child for the first time.

"It feels real good, Stan." Fiddleford answered, still gazing down at the Gohlen sprouts. "It feels real good. "


End file.
